If only...

"I want real human moments. I want to see you. I want you to see me. I don't want to give that up." --Waking Life

If only there were words to spell out the look on my face. Sometimes a look is all it takes and no words are needed. I'm running and running, with no direction, only hoping to find a way. I believe in the power of words, wholeheartedly. But, there is nothing like the way a piece of beautiful music leaves you. The notes slip into my body and take over everything and I have no control.


For those few moments, I am alive.

What If I could write you...

I have all of these things running through my head and none of them make sense. I've written about 4 entries at this point and all of them have gotten scrapped. It's going to be a very long, sleepless night.

There will be coffee in the morning. Lots of coffee.

3/26/10...

Idealistic, though I may be
I will fall along the way--
and must learn how the falls
make me work harder to gain the things I want.

Dreaming for things to come,
wishing it would find its way.

--------------------------
I swear I wrote a poem at one time called "Dreaming, Wishing, Hoping..." I'll have to find that. Maybe it's a beginning of something big since I may (or may not be) having dejavu. :/

I'll never sing of love, if it does not exist...

I've listened to this song a few times...but of course now, while I'm at the coffee shop trying to do work, I listen to it and almost have a private showing of the ugly cry. Seriously. I'm holding back tears in the corner, where thankfully, no one can see me. There are few songs these days where I feel like I'll cry at the drop of a hat. I'm so far from my emotional side that it seriously scares me most days.

I used to be overly emotional about everything, and most people would probably still agree that I am overly emotional. However, from the former emotional-aholic, I can tell you that I cry nowhere near as much as I used to, and I find myself less and less moved by things. The thing that has filled its place? Jaded.

What the hell happened to me?

There's another Paramore song that has lyrics that go something like this:

You look like i did
You resist me just like this
You can't tell me to heal
And it hurts remembering how it felt to shut down

You can't be too careful anymore
When all that is waiting for you
Won't come any closer
You've got to reach a little more

Now, of course this is taken out of context of the whole picture, but it hurts to remember how it felt to shut down since it seems like I can't do it anymore. I can't block out the rest of the world like I used to, and it doesn't make any sense. This song, is one of my newest addictions, and if I could be a rocker like Hayley Williams, I totally would.

Here's the song that set me off this morning:
The Only Exception by Paramore.

When I was younger
I saw my daddy cry
And curse at the wind
He broke his own heart
And I watched
As he tried to reassemble it

And my momma swore that
She would never let herself forget
And that was the day that I promised
I'd never sing of love
If it does not exist

But darling,
You, are, the only exception
You, are, the only exception
You, are, the only exception
You, are, the only exception

Maybe I know, somewhere
Deep in my soul
That love never lasts
And we've got to find other ways
To make it alone
Keep a straight face

And I've always lived like this
Keeping a comfortable, distance
And up until now
Paramore The Only Exception lyrics found on http://www.directlyrics.com.com/paramore-the-only-exception-lyrics.html
I had sworn to myself that I'm
Content with loneliness

Because none of it was ever worth the risk

Well, You, are, the only exception
You, are, the only exception
You, are, the only exception
You, are, the only exception

I've got a tight grip on reality
But I can't
Let go of what's in front of me here
I know you're leaving
In the morning, when you wake up
Leave me with some kind of proof it's not a dream

Ohh---

You, are, the only exception
You, are, the only exception
You, are, the only exception
You, are, the only exception
You, are, the only exception
You, are, the only exception
You, are, the only exception
You, are, the only exception

And I'm on my way to believing
Oh, And I'm on my way to believing

I really need to fall down the rabbit whole for a little while and experience some fantasy instead of all of the harsh realities of life. I feel like I need to get lost in a great novel about now...and not come out for awhile.

Vampy Sun-Hater

The last few days have been lovely here, but I can't stand all the sunlight. Now, I'm not saying I don't like it to be warm, or that I don't like it to be bright outside, but does it have to shine right the fuck in my face? No, no, it doesn't. What I mean to say is that I'm a night owl. I prefer to be up longer in the night time hours and I'm never fully awake until after noon. I can't handle all of the sunlight. It's hard to find sunglasses that fit over my glasses and I'm not wearing those fucking clip on ones. Now, you're probably asking why I'm not putting in my contacts...well, that quite frankly takes too long and I don't wake up with enough time to do that in the morning. I literally give myself just enough time to shower, get dressed, and hopefully run out the door with everything that I needed. This is where my obsessive planning comes in handy. If i lay out everything the night before (i.e. my stuff, not my clothes...) then I've got things at least in the same spot so I can just grab it all and go.

My lack of planning as of recent has been getting on my nerves. I've effectively taken about 4 days off from doing ANYTHING. I've gone to work, sure, but I haven't cleaned, I haven't done school work, and I haven't really gotten any reading done. What does that mean? I've been a freaking bum on the couch watching tv and movies. The things that I did actually do weren't absolutely necessary, but they're finished, right? Well, I guess that's something.

I've been in a rather awkward mood since the last post and I still feel that way. I think it just hit too close to home and I'm trying to come to terms with it. But, that doesn't mean I'm not still freaked out. Oh, decisions, decisions. I'm just not good at getting over things I guess...

Late Nights

Have you ever had one of those eerie experiences where you feel like someone else knew exactly what you were thinking, but documented it decades earlier in a novel you randomly chose to pick up? Perhaps I read too much, or it's bound to happen, or one of those bullshit sayings where people try to get around saying that fate doesn't exist. But what if I believe in fate?

There are certain things that happen in our lives that we can't, even as rational human beings, explain. So what do we do then? Cut and paste the moments back together to form a single storyline. Something that makes sense has to come out of this whole experience, right? I mean, it can't be coincidence that the story fits... It's definitely a sign, but a sign of what? A sign that someone else knows what I'm going through, that someone else had these thoughts too, that someone else knew this would happen to me? It's like reverse dejavu or something. But, how can you have dejavu for something that happened to someone else? Isn't it supposed to be about your own experiences?

I'm trying to piece this story back together in a way that doesn't make it seem completely creepy that part of the story fits so closely to the inner workings of my mind that I wanted to throw the book across the room and give up. I no longer want to read about my own crazed head, but I read to get lost in the character's minds. When it hits close to home, however, it seems harder and harder to pick up the book and finish. Beautiful writing, though it may be, the book is staring me in the face wanting me to pick it up again and finish. I'm more than half way through...past the point of no return. But, when the story seems to weave into your own life, doesn't it become too damn creepy to continue?

I'm sure I'll continue on with the book...but at least for now, it'll have to sit on the desk staring me in the face, laughing at my fears.

Grief

Well, I just found out that J.D. Salinger passed away yesterday. A mere weeks after finishing The Catcher in the Rye, and now I find out that he's gone. Such a wonderful story, such a beautiful character....so true to real life. Is it possible to feel so much grief for someone you've never met before? Or for the absolute death of your favorite literary character? This marks the death of his story. Holden Caulfield will certainly not be in another Salinger work. I feel so beside myself that I'm almost willing to cry over the devastation, but I'm at odds with the reason for feeling that way. Really, it's just a story afterall.

I still haven't gotten out of my Kings of Leon phase...and I probably won't for quite some time. That's the music on right now and I still haven't really gotten into the grove of one of the albums yet.

Etched on my heart, stained my soul
Moments never fleeting.
Songs from the moment,
Visions burst into sight
Goosebumps over my skin take me back.

The scent in the air, feeling the moment.
Encompassed in its cocoon, comfort in the warmth.
Blood spills from the wound, etched forever strong.


...still working on that one.

Arizona

Ok, so the song "Arizona" by Kings of Leon has stuck enough in my head that I've finally figured out part of the reason why. When I finished The Catcher in the Rye by Salinger a few weeks ago, I LOVED the character of Holden. Holden is such a great character. I love his attitude. I love the ease of his character. I love his openness to say whatever he wants, whenever he wants, to whomever he wants. He's a lot like what I would be like if I didn't have a filter. I battle with my filter, but most of the time, the filter works out for the better. Holden, on the other hand, doesn't much care. Now, I probably should have seen the end of the novel coming, but I was so disturbed...I LOVED his character. I mean, I'm completely enthralled with him...and I read the book weeks ago. Rarely am I so stuck on one character that I can't stop thinking about it. Books, sure, but one character...very rare. I was totally mesmerised by his story. Probably the language in the story that's so true to human life, that many writers don't come close to that sort of reality in a novel...that's what pulled me in. Holden is like the guy friend you want to always have on your side. (Thankfully, I have awesome guy friends who remind me a bit of Holden on occassion.) That's probably another reason I love him as a character.

At any rate, I started this post by talking about Kings of Leon, and that was my intention. This crazy song gets in my head and it isn't the lyrics, but it's the tone of the music that makes me think of Holden Caulfield walking around New York City trying to figure out what he's going to do next. I just feel like the music for the song is a sort of soundtrack to the novel. I suppose the line "too drunk to remember" reminds me of Holden for obvious reasons, and "I kinda think I like her/I kinda think I do" reminds me of his relationship with Jane Gallagher. The lyrics lend themselves to the decision for this to be a soundtrack moment, but there's something to be said for the instrumentals and his astrayed venture.

Be here Waiting...

Now, don't get me wrong, I'm completely consumed by whatever music is running around my head at that particular moment in time, but with lyrics like these, I just have to put them here. (Apparantly I'm on a Kings of Leon obsession...don't worry; it's a healthy obsession.)

Kings of Leon-On Call

She said call me now baby, and I'd come a running.
She said call me now baby, and I'd come a running.
If you'd call me now, baby then I'd come a running.

I'm on call, to be there.
One and all, to be there.
And When I fall, to pieces.
Lord you know, I'll be there waiting.

To be there.
To be there.

I'm on call, to be there.
One and all, to be there.
And When I fall, to pieces.
Lord you know, I'll be there waiting.

I'm gon' brawl, so be there.
One for all, I'll be there.
And when they fall, to pieces.
Lord you know, I'll be there laughing.

I'd come a running.
I'd come a running.
I'd come a running.

To be there.
To be there.

I'm on call, to be there.
I'm on call, to be there.
I'm on call, to be there.
I'm on call, to be there.

----------------------------------------------------
Now, I think this calls for some explanation. I'm one of those people who regards friends as family members. My girlfriends are like my sisters, and my guy friends are like brothers. I love them all dearly, and if anything were to happen to any one of them, I would be there as fast as I could make plans to cover hours at work and have arrangements made for my courses. I'm not sure what I'd do without my "extended family." I'm completely self-less when it comes to taking care of other people, sometimes to my detriment, but I wouldn't change how I feel about taking care of my friends since they've taken great care of me.

The lyrics are simple and straight-forward, but the sentiment is there. I've said it before, and I'll say it again, if it weren't for some of my dearest frinds, I'm not sure I'd be here right now.

Song lyrics currently stewing around in my head:

Kings of Leon-Arizona


That taste
All I ever needed
All I ever wanted
Too dumb to surrender

She shakes
Like the morning railway
Ch-ch-checking me out
Someone on a shoulder

The lamp
Flickers in the bedroom
She must feel as awkward
Whorehouse Arizona

Now go
Stand up to a giant
Say that I'm a fighter
Too drunk to remember
Too drunk to...

Shake hands
My face is laying on the pavement
Tasting something awful
I hate when that happens

She wades
In and out of sexy
She must be plum crazy
I kinda think I like her
I kinda think I do
---------------------------------------------------
I like the lyrics just fine for this one, but I think it's a mix with the instrumentation that really pulled me in from the beginning. That and something raspy and real about his voice....There's definitely something mind blowing about getting lost in the moment of singing a song and channelling the energy to jump inside that moment.

I think the first two stanzas are probably my favorite. And at the end of the 4th stanza as he says the last "To" Ugh, my heart stops a little in that instant. Love it.

Lately, I've been feeling....

a lot like this:


Let me preface by saying, I think this is the first picture that I've actually posted on this blog of myself that isn't my profile picture. It quite possibly could be the first photo period.

The last few weeks I've been (in a serious way) emotionally charged. Perhaps some of that will go away as time goes on, but for now, I'm so uncertain of so many things that I'm scared, edgy, nervous. All of my worst habits are nervous habits. I used to bite the inside of my lower lip when i got nervous-not sure how this habit got started-but recently I've started biting my actual lip to the point of bleeding. This cannot be good... The worst part of it is that I didn't even notice I was doing it until it was pointed out for me. For some reason the first few times I didn't even taste the blood on my lips.

I need some serious time to sort out the conundrum in my head. I'm going to need to start advocating for the mental health day as PTO for the workplace...

A box to be reopened, though it was never shut

Everyone always says, "This too shall pass" after something horrible has happened to you. I'd love to believe that these things can be dealt with and sealed away in some dark place, where the box will never have to be opened again. I, however, have certain life experiences that I'm nearly certain will be etched into my being for the rest of my life. At some point, I will come up with enough courage, focus, direction to write about those life altering events, but for now, I simply can't talk about it. I've read other people say that they will never get over certain life experiences, and I couldn't agree more. I don't think I'll ever stop thinking about it, or stop being in pain over it. That's probably the reason people see psychiatrists, but I don't believe in being psychoanalyzed. I don't believe in being medicated for something like this. The only way I know to deal with it is to just let the emotion come when it needs to. When I need to break down, then that's what I need to do. When I need some solitary time to get my thoughts sorted, then I need to be alone. I know what sort of space I need for certain things and there are just some topics that I'm not yet ready to put on a shelf in the back of my closet. I don't think it'll ever truly pass.

In all of that is the hardened heart of my past, a heart that will never be the same. I know that to some, my past was not difficult, and that I should be over all of it by now, but I don't believe in closed books. There are some books on my shelf that I've read over and over again, and I would still love them, even if I knew every word by heart. I still cry everytime I read The Notebook and I remember just where I was and what I was listening to the first time that I read it. I know the ending. I know it's coming. But everytime, I need a half a box of Kleenex just to make it to the end. The same thing happens with the film version.

I can always count on one thing, though. My emotions totally rule my existence. You'd think that with my hardened heart I'd be over that by now, but I'm still just as emotional and affected as I always have been. I completely let my emotions take over all rational thought... Now I'm inclined to believe that this isn't a bad thing, especially since emotion makes some of the best writing, however, in a time when you're needing to be rational more times than not, this becomes a problem. With that said, if I could live inside a jar with my bottled up emotions, I absolutely would.

Half of the time I write these and I wonder if I've made any sense at all...because mostly I just write to get it all out of my head and the writing takes a completely different form than what I had intended, but sometimes that's just necessary.

...And in the depths of my sadness, I will alone be. With myself and my thoughts, --forever we will be free.

This part of my life is called "Practice."

Something sparked in me this afternoon. Usually, on my days off I find myself catching up on housework, homework, organizing something, listening to music, running errands....rarely do I stay at home. So, after running some errands and taking a shower, I decided that despite the fact that I don't really have time this week for fun and games-I'm taking my Praxis exam on Saturday-I should get out my violin and test the waters.

After playing through some fairly easy stuff that I could just pick up and sight read, I have deciphered the following:

Did it hurt? Yes.
Did my fingers go numb? No.
Was a half hour a reasonable amount of time to play? Not really, but at this point, I'll take it.
I absolutely needed a break after playing for that long, and while that's not enough time for a girl who used to practice 4 hours everyday, a half hour is better than no practice time at all. My shoulder for some reason is hurting, so I'll need to stretch more than before I think.

Perhaps I'm in a good mood, or I'm not really sure....but I didn't break down and cry as I thought I would have. I'll get through this...and find myself somewhere in this mess.

Ring a bell?

Did I write this? No. But right now, it feels like I would have written something very similar. I have a hard time thinking that artists who write their own lyrics haven't gone through these experiences themselves, so I'm hoping that Flyleaf and I can commiserate about how we feel. Enough now.

"This Close" (Flyleaf)

I had a dream that we were dead
But we pretended we still lived
With no regrets, we never bled
And we took everything life could give
And came up broken, empty handed in the end

In the hearts of the blind
Something you'll never find
Is a vision of light
With the voice of the dead, I'm screaming

I dont know who I am anymore
Not once in life have I been real
But I've never felt this close before
I've been looking in your window
I've been dressing in your clothes
I've been walking dead
Watching you
Long enough to know I can't go on

Had a dream that fire fell
From an opening in the sky
And someone warned me of this hell
And I spit in his naive eye
And left him crying for my soul
He said would die

In the hearts of the blind
Something you'll never find
Is a vision of light
With the voice of the dead, I'm screaming

I dont know who I am anymore
Not once in life have I been real
But I've never felt this close before
I've been looking in your window
I've been dressing in your clothes
I've been walking dead
Watching you
Long enough to know I can't go on

In the hearts of the blind
Something you'll never find
Is a vision of light
With the voice of the dead, I'm screaming

I dont know who I am anymore
Not once in life have I been real
But I've never felt this close before
I've been looking in your window
I've been dressing in your clothes
I've been walking dead
Watching you
Long enough to know I can't go on

I've been looking in your window
I've been dressing in your clothes
I've been walking dead
Watching you
Long enough to know I can't go on

The State of being Worried

People often say that I worry too much, or that I think too much. Really, I worry that I worry too much...and that's saying something. Who worries about worrying?!? If I made a penny for every worry I had, I'd be a VERY rich girl. Unfortunately that's not the case. I over prepare for each scenario usually, and anxiety, more than anything else, rules my life. Anyone who knows me well enough really knows that I startle easily and that if there's something that makes me nervous, it'll make me nervous to the point of sickness.

Now, when I mean "to the point of sickness," I mean I literally. I'll get into a "mood" and stew over the issue until I've got an upset stomache that will just not go away or I worry myself into throwing up. This is something I'm going to have to hide. Once I start student teaching...mind you this is a year from now...I can't worry myself into sickness with my students. This definitely worries me. I'm worrying about the fact that something worries me....see a trend? Multi-layered worrying.

J.D. Salinger had a good rant about worrying in The Catcher in the Rye that went a little something like this:

"I was so damn worried, that's why. When I really worry about something, I don't just fool around. I even have to go to the bathroom when I worry about something. Only, I don't go. I'm too worried to go. I don't want to interrupt my worrying to go. If you knew Stradlater, you'd have been worried, too..."(40).

Really, I thought it was funny that I've been working on this blog for quite some time, and while I'm casually reading J.D. Salinger, I come across the perfect description of worrying. I have to say that though the book is filled with vulgar language (not that I much care, mind you), it truly is one of the best things I've read in awhile, and I'm only about half way through. I'm enthralled with the character of Holden. He's the stock character bad boy, but he's still the bad boy that you know in real life and are friends with. There are parts of the book that I find myself completely identifying with, and the things in between keep me searching for more. Reading the book is like talking with one of your friends over a beer about the messed up things in their life. I'm just so interested in what Holden's story has to offer that I keep going back and forth between reading it and trying to do some real work, but the "real work" is far less interesting...

At any rate, my worried state is something to be worked on, and perhaps someday I'll find the answer. I find myself constantly evolving, but sometimes the evolving process goes in directions that I have little control over it seems. This is something to be reconciled....not that I'm saying I need to be in control of it, but rather that I need to assist the evolving process into going a direction I understand...more on that later.

Another New Year

I'm so ready for 2010. Not really sure why, but a change of pace will be good. Life is easier when I'm busy...don't ask me why that makes sense, but I have less time to spend inside my head, and that, for the most part, is a good thing. The end of my semester was a traumatic experience...not because I did horribly. (I got a 4.0 so that certainly isn't true...) I wrote some very painful confessions in a formal paper for my professor to read. Things that I would normally only write here, rather than for something I deliberately know someone will read. I had a rather difficult time attempting to get around writing about my life directly, but the assignment necessitated some soul searching and some divulging. Not one of my finer moments in terms of holding the pieces all together.

For now, I'll leave you with the final thoughts from my paper. I almost never include academic writing here, but since I'm having writer's block (Really, I'm feeling the need to write on paper these days, but haven't yet picked out which notebook I'm feeling right now...)

My philosophy on education stems from personal experience and personal triumphs over disappointment. Perhaps it is because of these wounds that I find myself relating to an Existential viewpoint, but despite these views, I am also an Idealist. Even though this seems to be an odd coupling, my background and life experiences seem to explain how I have formulated these conceptions. One of the Freedom Writers in Teaching Hope says, “The youth’s voices echo in my soul and stitch the open wounds of my past” (74). This quote simply explains how I feel about my path towards a career in education. My aim is to listen and guide students through experiences that as an adolescent are difficult to cope with, to guide them to find the truths in life, and to aid in their personal development. There may be a student like me, who had their life focused on one goal, but changed avenues and found something that they love differently, but equally. I strive to become the teacher that listens to the voice of each student, to guide him or her towards the inner truths of life, and strives for them to find their individuality or uniqueness. Perhaps with the voices of my students, I too will be able to stitch and heal the open wounds of my past.

Rings a bell in my heart....

These words keep spinning in my head...

"Within the depths of my sadness and lonliness, I can love you, Although I cannot be with you..."

Oh, my aching head will pine over this for awhile...
a sickness it creates..

Song of the Moment

I'm in love with this...

Kings of Leon-Revelry

What a night for a dance,
You know I'm a dancing machine
With a fire in my bones
And the sweet taste of kerosene

I get lost in the night
So high I don't want to come down
To face the loss
Of the good thing
That I had found

Woo hoo hoooo
Woo hoo hoooo

In the dark of the night
I can hear you callin my name
With the hardest of hearts,
I still feel full of pain

So I drink and I smoke
And I ask if you're ever around
Even though it was me who drove us
Right in the ground

See the time we shared it
Was precious to me
But all the while
I was dreamin of revelry

I wanna run baby run
Like a stream down a mountainside
With the wind at my back
I don't ever even bat an eye

Just know it was you all along
Who had a hold of my heart
But the demon and me
Were the best of friends from the start

So the time we shared it
Was precious to me
All the while
I was dreamin of revelry
Dreamin of revelry

And I told myself boy away you go
It rained so hard that it felt like snow
Everything came tumbling down on me

In the back of the woods
In the dark of night
The Palest of the old moonlight
Everything just felt so incomplete
Dreamin of revelry
Dreamin of revelry
Dreamin of Revelry....

30 Seconds til Meltdown...

I've just finished the most painful paper I've written since the poem I wrote in high school called, "Torrance." It's not the writing itself, but the content that bothers me. It's a story I'm not completely comfortable with admitting, and especially a story I do not like to share. It still pains me to think about what I've lost as a result of my physical impossibility to move forward and push through. That's simply what it is....a physical impossibility. If I push through it, it will become damaged. More physical pain. More emotional pain... As it is, I'm living with a bandage over a massive, gaping bullet hole. I haven't played my violin and years...and I hardly know myself some days because of it. The music has been pulled and stripped from me, and I'm left bare and naked in the corner. That blanket of security, now gone.

I used a quote in my paper that says, "The youth's voices echo in my soul and stitch the open wounds of my past." But, stitches do not hold back the pain...

I Love Philosophy

Someone once told me I wasn't smart enough to understand The Matrix (1999). This, I have never forgotten. It has become, and is now, one of my favorite movies. I can't begin to explain how painful that statement is, and how it has also pushed me to move forward and to break from the mold.

Today, I'm writing a paper on the different philosophical tenets imbedded within the movie. It brings a smile to my face knowing that I have the background knowledge of philosophy that will make my paper shine above the rest.

Though, I do have to say that if I were without my favorite philosophy music, a mix of Sigur Ros, Moby, and the Donnie Darko Soundtrack, I wouldn't have the same thought process while writing this paper. It is a ritual, and a bit of a supersitition about paper writing-more specifically philosophy paper writing. I've written many a paper without without this mix, however, it is a necessity for philosophy. It puts me in the right mindset to get the job done and for it to be focused and directed. No other music that I've found, as of yet, gives me the same effect. And yet, I never tire of this music, eventhough I've listened to it hundreds of times.

Song of the Day: Approach/Dream-Sigur Ros.